


Big Cloud, Little Rain

by Rozarka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-22
Updated: 2006-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozarka/pseuds/Rozarka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Girls were all different sorts, and boys too, weren't they? Shy and bold and cheeky and gentle and rude and silly and clever and snide." A V/Hr story set during GOF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Cloud, Little Rain

"He's going to love this," sniggered Harry as they walked out of Gladrags Wizardwear, tucking his small gift-wrapped package of socks out of the way. "Especially the one that screams when it gets smelly."

"Scary fashion sense, that elf's got," said Ron with a mournful shake of his head.

Hermione couldn't keep back a smirk. "With your smashing taste in dress robes, you're an acknowledged authority on the subject, Ron."

Ron reddened and gave her a fairly amiable duff over the head, which she ducked. "Dobby fancies himself in this, there's the difference." He lowered his voice. "So, are we set to go and find Padfoot, then?"

Harry glanced at his watch. "We've still got half an hour before we're meeting him. How about a trip to Honeydukes first?"

"You two can go," said Hermione with a sigh. "My parents have asked me to go easy on the sweets. I'll drop by the Three Broomsticks instead; I have to use the bathroom anyway."

"You went just before we left Hogwarts!" Ron raised his eyebrows, looking at Harry. "Girls," he said, "have thimbles where boys have bladders, right?"

Harry only shrugged, looking torn between a laugh and a deep unwillingness to start discussing any sort of girl parts in Hermione's vicinity. "Come to Honeydukes afterwards then, all right?"

She walked inside the noisy twilit tavern, steering towards the toilets at the back, entered one of the stalls and went about her business. She was finished and smoothing her robes down, about to step outside, when she heard two girls enter, laughing at each other. 

Hermione had her hand on the doorknob, but froze as she heard Angelina's amused alto voice: "I can't believe you propositioned Krum, Alicia." 

"I did _not_! I only asked him if we could sit down at their table! And it was fun, wasn't it?"

"Well, watch it." A low laugh. "If you ask me, he seems as careful with Hermione as if she were his little sister. Not saying it's not nice of him, mind you, just saying the poor boy must be feeling it by now. Wouldn't be quite fair to take advantage."

"There's a notion. Have you been tempted, or what?"

"Nah, I have my hands full with Fred ... literally." Hermione could hear the grin in Angelina's voice. "Besides, it wouldn't be a nice thing to do to Hermione, would it? You watch it, is all I say."

"Hey, in fact I've got my eyes on another one -- that blond, built guy, um ... Kolya?"

"Mmm. Okay, then. All good."

They'd entered two stalls while talking, and Hermione burst out of hers, rinsing her hands in a hurry to get out of there before they were finished. She barely had the heart to look at herself in the mirror, knowing her face must be roughly the colour of a beetroot. She fled out in the corridor, hearing her own agitated heartbeat in her ears.

Little sister, was it? She could swear for certain that when Viktor held her and kissed her, neither of them felt remotely like she was his little sister. But maybe it was true, what Angelina had said? That Viktor must feel the need for more than she was ready to offer?

He was here at the tavern, then. With his Durmstrang friends. Inviting other, older girls to sit down at his table and what not. Hermione knew without a doubt that the wisest thing to do would be to walk out, give her face and her thoughts a chance to cool in the brisk spring air. But her feet took another route, slowly, guided by something quite different than wisdom -- a helpless burn of unfairness and anxiety that she felt twisting like a snake inside. Jealousy, she thought with analytical distraction. So this is how it feels.

It felt awful.

"Can I get you something, dear?" Hermione looked up at Madam Rosmerta, without a recollection of how she'd made it to the bar.

"A ... a ... bottle of lemonade, please." Hermione fumbled in her pocket for her purse, and counted out a few random coins, glancing around her.

The tavern was quite full already. She couldn't see many fourth-year students here yet -- they'd be at Honeydukes or Zonko's, probably -- only Malfoy and a few Slytherins who were sitting around a table at the back, casting haughty looks at the rest of the company. 

Her gaze snagged on the table next to where the Slytherins sat. Five Durmstrang boys sat with some full, some empty beer glasses between them. Viktor was with them, relaxed back with his long legs sprawling before him, next to the thin boy who was his best mate; a Finn, he'd told her. He was laughing at something one of his friends had said. Hermione watched him out of the corner of her eye. Even if he noticed her, she wasn't about to go over there. She felt thoroughly intimidated by Viktor's classmates, by their standoffish demeanour and bold gazes and undecipherable language.

And Viktor had been so moody and humourless the past week, since the Second Task, that she'd just as well not have to talk to him at any rate, regardless of his mates or her discomfort at Angelina's words. As if it weren't enough that he'd put her in a position where her friends were teasing her mercilessly for being 'what Krum would most sorely miss', she got the impression he was disappointed in her in some way. But when she'd tried to obliquely address the problem, he'd clammed up and scowled. The way he'd frowned at her and Harry at breakfast today had been downright uncomfortable. He must have heard about that article by Rita Skeeter, but she'd never have thought he'd be silly enough -- insecure enough -- to believe in it.

Or could it be that Angelina was right, that Viktor was ... well, physically frustrated? Because of her? Could that be why he seemed moody and distant?

At that moment, he looked up and saw her. And he didn't look ill-tempered or sour at all, just lit up with an uncertain, but warm smile and pushed his chair back, rising to his feet. Hermione stood nailed to the floor in a sudden, round-eyed panic, about to bolt. Gryffindor courage be damned, she just didn't feel up to talking to Viktor right now, right here.

His friend -- Staffan, Hermione thought he was called -- followed Viktor's gaze to her and then grinned, looking back up at him. He said something that made the other Durmstrang boys guffaw and look her way, and a wave of heat flooded her face and neck. Viktor just smiled and shrugged and replied something back. Staffan fired off another quick remark that was met with soft hoots of laughter, and one of the other boys glanced at her and raised his hands to describe a slight shape in the air, mapping out very small curves at the top and bottom.

Hermione quickly turned her back on them and stared down at the counter, clutching hard at her lemonade bottle as she heard more laughs from the table. Anger and humiliation seethed within her. She'd rather not know what they'd been saying; she suspected it couldn't be anything good. 

It made her feel the same way she sometimes did when Ron or the twins were talking about girls in the common room at nights, with gleeful leers about the "good ones" and with shrugs about the "plain ones", winking and grinning and doing those vague meaningful hand movements, without any regard that she sat there within listening range and quite obviously would be regarded as one of the "plain ones". Boys could be so ... thoughtlessly cruel. It was as though they had no idea or care that words might hurt. Thank God Harry was more careful about what he said. She'd thought Viktor would be, too, but he'd been laughing along with his friends.

"When the cat's away the mice will play," drawled a cool voice next to her. "Karkaroff's off somewhere. Seems they let their hair down when he's gone."

"Malfoy," she said in a bored voice, not even bothering to look up. "Your conversation is fascinating as always."

"Your boyfriend is staring at you, Granger." As her head snapped up, Malfoy gave his lopsided sneer, eyes intense with dislike. "He and his mates were sharing some dirty jokes at your expense." 

She wished she could charm away the heat on her face -- she couldn't deny hearing the raucous laughter from the Durmstrang table -- but she kept her back straight and levelled cold eyes on Malfoy. "Of course, you're an expert in Slavic languages, so you would know."

"They were speaking German," said Malfoy, unshaken. "I happen to know it well."

"Don't you have any unfinished business in Crabbe's pants, ferret-boy?" She tossed her hair back and threw a disdainful look over at the Slytherin group. "He looks lonely for you."

Malfoy straightened himself -- he'd grown quite tall during this school year -- and bent over her, eyes blazing with resentful triumph. "Nah, we've been having such a ball listening to Krum tell his Durmstrang mates all about getting into _your_ pants, Granger. Your hot little Mudblood knickers."

She stared at him agape, resisting with all her might the temptation to raise her gaze to look in Viktor's direction. "You ... you're a filthy liar," she hissed.

"Say that again, Mudblood." Draco had his hand on his wand, grinning ever so slightly.

Before she could oblige, she felt a large hand close over her shoulder, protective and possessive. "Is there problem?"

She spoke through her teeth, uncertainty fuelling bitter-tasting rage. "I can take care of this without your help, Viktor." She nearly shrugged his hand off in fury, but checked herself as she noticed Malfoy's satisfied grin. Damned if she'd let the creep believe that his taunts had hit the mark. "Thanks anyway," she added, forcing herself to add some sweetness to her tone.

Viktor fixed Malfoy with a suspicious glare. "You vould not insult lady, Malfoy, vould you?"

"A lady, never," said Malfoy, retreating with a lazy nod before Viktor had time to catch on to his insolent ambiguity. She felt Viktor tense, about to go after him, and stopped him with her hand on his arm.

"I vill make him apologize," said Viktor, determinedly.

"No, you will not," she hissed, tugging at him. "He'll just make a fool of us both, Viktor. You can't win that way against the likes of Malfoy, they don't play fair." She looked up at him and gave a sigh. "It was nice of you to come to my aid, but I didn't need it."

"I know you didn't need. Vos still vot I must do," he said curtly. He glanced back over towards his table. A couple of the Durmstrang boys were staring; Viktor's mate gave the two of them a wink, and Viktor grinned back reluctantly.

"Herm-own-inny, vould you like to join me? Meet my friend, Staffan?"

Embarrassment flushed her face. She ought not to believe anything Malfoy said. But the Durmstrang boys _had_ been laughing. Viktor, too. And looking at her.

"I think you and your friends have had quite enough amusement at my expense," she said in a low voice, with as much dignity as she could muster. "Besides, Harry and Ron are waiting for me." She slipped carefully past him, leaving her lemonade untouched as she strode towards the door.

She was almost there when Viktor once again caught her with a hand on her shoulder. This time, she did shake it off, as she whipped around to face him. "Viktor, stop it! This is inexcusable!"

His eyes narrowed, and in the next instant he had her firmly by the hand, leading her with alarming speed into the small corridor past the toilets that ended by the stairs to the first floor. He turned on her, crowding her into a corner.

"Ve vill talk," he said stubbornly.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, get it off your chest then," she snapped.

"Vot is it you speak of, amusement? At your ... expense?"

"You were laughing over there," she said. She bit her lip then, averted her gaze. "And looking at me." A deep breath, then an explosion of furious confession. "And lying about how easy it is to get into my knickers."

Viktor took an angry huff of air. She caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath and knew he and his mates had been drinking stronger stuff than butterbeer, and maybe enough to make him a bit drunk, even, which might explain his pushy determination now. "That vos vot Malfoy said, yes?"

"Apparently he understands German."

"Apparently he _not_ understands German." His eyes were flashing with temper now, his words coming low, but fast and jumbled, not cautiously thought through as usual. "You vant to know vot ve say! Fine! My friends tease me, saying you are too young. I said they vere correct, I said I vaiting for you. Staffan, he says I get ... how do you say? Blue balls? From vanting you and vaiting. I say I am fine vith blue balls. They say you are clever little vitch, put a hex on me. It was _joke_ , not serious, not cruel. So ve laugh! Okay?"

She stared at him, speechless both because of his annoyance and the crude words, unsure whether he realised the tone of the phrase. She'd heard that kind of thing before of course, but never from Viktor. 

"Okay?" repeated Viktor, looming over her with an intent look.

She tore her hands free from his grasp as she threw her arms out. "I ... I don't know. I don't care! You've acted so weird since the Second Task, I have no idea what you think of me anymore."

"You care, Herm-own-inny," he murmured, eyes narrowing as he studied her. "You care. Or vy believe Malfoy? You say yourself, he doesn't play fair. Yet you let him hurt you."

"I wasn't _hurt_ by him," she snapped. "I was _furious_."

"Yes, but you vould not look at me," he said. His voice was abruptly calmer, more sober. He raised his hand and ran his fingertips down her cheek, and they shook a little. "This is vy ve need talk. You vere afraid to look and see my face, because it hurt you much, to think I vould do that to you, vot he said."

"You wouldn't? Do that?" she asked, and although she strove to keep her voice cool and confident, it came out as unsteady as the touch of his fingers.

"Of course not." He shook his head, his expression sad. "I vish ... you trust me so much you not believe lies."

Hermione stared, crestfallen, guilt slowly seeping into her and making her tremble. He looked genuinely hurt, as hurt as she'd felt, and she just couldn't wrap her mind around how it had happened, how they'd turned out to be standing here accusing each other like adversaries.

"I, I ... It's just, I just happened to hear something that someone said about us," she started, her face burning.

"Vot?" He cocked his head in query, raised her chin with a finger. His eyes were soft and concerned. "Please tell me."

"Do you sometimes wish I were older, so that we could--" She took a hard breath, started again. "Do you sometimes feel like you'd rather be with an older girl, so that you could ..."

He looked appalled. "Ve definitely need to talk. _Now._ "

She checked her watch. It was disastrous timing -- she was supposed to be at Honeydukes right now. "I have to go, Viktor," she said desperately. "It's really important, and Ron and Harry are--"

He breathed out through his nose, nostrils flaring -- he looked rather like a provoked bull about to charge at the red rag. "They are vaiting." His voice had a certain lash to it again, just like his gaze: wounded pride and exasperation flaring to anger. "Of course, then you _must_ go."

And as she watched in dismay, he gave a perfectly courteous, perfectly hurtful little bow, turned on his heel, and was gone.

Hermione was left there, looking at where his angry back had rounded the corner, heart hammering with the turmoil of her emotions. Damn all bull-headed Bulgarians, she thought wildly. It _was_ important, it was Sirius waiting, it was Harry's safety or even his life ... but she couldn't tell Viktor that. Why couldn't he just trust her that much?

 _Yeah, like you could trust him?_ asked a sarcastic, uncomfortably honest voice at the back of her mind.

She shrugged with an indignant huff, then squared her shoulders and pushed herself away from the wall. She'd have to put it out of her mind until after they'd met Sirius, at least. There'd have to be some sanity to her priorities.

As she hurried down the corridor, she saw Angelina standing quiet and wide-eyed watching her, her hand poised on the door to the ladies' toilets.

Hermione rushed by, flashing a mutinous glare at her, pretending she didn't hear Angelina's soft, rueful call of her name behind her back. 

***

"Hermione?"

This time, there was no getting away. She'd just watched Angelina climb through the portrait hole and Angelina had wasted no time striding directly towards her. She had a look on her face like the one she got on the morning before a Quidditch match, tight-lipped, quiet and determined.

Ron and Harry were deeply engrossed in a game of chess, and didn't even notice as Hermione sighed, put a marker in her book, and allowed Angelina to lead her aside to a quiet corner. "What's on your mind?"

"You know what's on my mind. Damn it, Hermione, I'm so sorry -- you overheard me and Alicia talking at the Three Broomsticks, right? I happened to hear you and Krum afterwards."

"Eavesdropping _on purpose_ isn't nice," said Hermione, her neck held steep with defiance.

"Hey, it may not be nice, but curiosity is human. You were standing just a few steps away arguing when I came out, and I recognized his voice -- his accent is pretty distinctive. " Angelina shrugged. "And anyway, I realized from something you said that you must have heard us, and hell, I felt so bad about it."

"Yeah, well. I guess you stood up for me to Alicia," admitted Hermione quietly. "It's just that it's the sort of thing I wish people wouldn't ... concern themselves with at all, you know? It's ... it's so bloody _private_ , and if Viktor is ... is..." her face went hot and she had to nearly cough up the word -- "...frustrated, then that's between him and me, not--"

"I _know_ ," interjected Angelina softly. "But what I want you to understand, is that Alicia and I were just joking around about this stuff. It was just ... teasing and bragging a bit, I guess, nothing worth you getting into an argument with Viktor about."

"But you see, it wasn't only that," said Hermione, dropping her gaze and suddenly feeling so miserable she wanted to sit down right there and cry. "When I came into the bar afterwards I was worked up over what I'd heard you talk about, and then Viktor was there, and, and they _laughed_ at me, and Malfoy..."

"Whoa." Angelina put a hand on her shoulder. "Slow down. What happened?"

Before she knew, the whole thing came pouring out. Viktor's curious behaviour since the Second Task, and how uncertain she'd felt after overhearing Angelina's remark in the bathroom, and the Durmstrang boys making fun, and Malfoy's taunts, and the argument with Viktor.

"Oh, Hermione." For some reason, her tale of woe had left Angelina smiling. She gave Hermione a quick, impulsive hug and then held her by the shoulders, speaking to her in an intent, eager murmur. "I know, it's bloody scary sometimes when you hear boys talk about girls. And I bet we scare them silly, too. But, that's just how it _is_. Girls tease each other about boys, and boys tease each other about girls, and, well, it's tempting to show off a little. But if you really care about someone you don't do that, you don't kiss and tell. You don't reveal anything really intimate."

"Like you did about Fred?" asked Hermione archly, and Angelina actually blushed. Hermione did a second take, it was that rare to see Angelina embarrassed about anything.

"I was a bit indiscrete, maybe? But it was just in good spirits, just joking, as I said." She lowered her eyelashes with a secretive smile. "There are lots of things I'd _never_ tell about me and Fred. Not that -- you know, we're not _that_ ... debauched; I mean, Fred's actually incredibly sweet in his own, somewhat crass way..."

Hermione had to laugh, and Angelina grinned. "I do tell Katie," she admitted. "The kind of things that aren't bragging but that you just have to tell someone or you'll burst. But I don't tell anyone else. And you have Ginny, haven't you?"

"I tell Ginny some of it," admitted Hermione.

"So, you ... you giggle and make jokes and so on, because it's both exciting and embarrassing at once -- right? And if Viktor had heard some of it I bet he'd be mortified, even though there's no ill meaning in what you say."

Hermione frowned, surprised. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do know what you mean."

"Hermione." Angelina's grin faded, and she looked rather shame-faced. "What I said, to Alicia? Please just forget it. What do I know about you and Krum? God knows, he looks happy enough with the state of affairs. He was polite when Alicia asked if we could join them, but he was quiet, didn't laugh and flirt like the other boys there." She shook her head. "And I just _know_ that Krum wouldn't brag about you the way Malfoy said. He's not that type at all. He may be a scowling surly-tempered sex symbol, but I think he's a decent sort of scowling surly-tempered sex symbol."

Hermione couldn't help giggling. "Actually, he ... he's quite confounded by the sex symbol part of it. And he's not really surly when you get to know him."

"Sure?" Angelina had her hand on her shoulder again, gently turning her towards the portrait hole. "Because there's a surly-looking, sad-faced Bulgarian sitting outside on the stairs, scowling at the passers-by and waiting to talk to you."

Hermione's heart jumped and kicked off at alarming speed, as all her anxiety flooded back with twice the force. "You mean that he's here? Viktor? Now?"

"I told him I'd send you out to him. You'd better hurry, curfew is in fifteen minutes. Calm down, girl, all you have to do is go out there and make up with him." Her eyes twinkled. "It can be really nice, you know." 

She put her hand on Hermione's back, gently nudging her towards the exit. Hermione dug her heels in at first, apprehensive at the thought of facing Viktor without a chance to plan what to say, but then swallowed her caution along with her pride and approached the portrait hole.

She had to pause when a ginger head emerged and Fred and George came climbing in one after the other. 

"Young Hermione," said Fred as he straightened himself, "there's a foreign gentleman outside waiting for you."

"Scowling like a wrathful vulture," said George, placing his arm around Angelina's waist and giving her a peck on the cheek. "Hello, sweetheart."

"Don't you mean a Vratsa Vulture?" said Fred, raising his eyebrows in bemusement as he watched Angelina lean on George's shoulder.

Hermione grinned. "That's George," she said to Angelina.

"What ... oh, heck!" Angelina took a step back, narrowing her eyes at George, who merely laughed as Fred took his place. "You can tell them apart?" she asked Hermione. "I wish you'd tell me how; frankly I have nightmares about the two of them fooling me this way."

George leaned in on her other side and spoke quite close to her cheek. "Now, now, Angelina my fair, are you entirely frank when you describe those dreams as 'nightmares'?"

"Keep in line, little brother. You wouldn't betray our secrets, would you?" said Fred earnestly to Hermione. "I swear I'll keep the bloody git in check."

"I might yet," said Hermione. "It's a girls and boys thing. I owe Angelina a favour. But now I've got to go."

***

Viktor was sitting on the topmost step of the stairs, getting to his feet when he saw her, and she blushed to the roots of her hair, gnawing on her lower lip as she wondered what exactly to say. He looked miserable -- bewildered and guilty and determined, all at once. 

"We'd better stay here and talk, it's curfew in a few minutes." She threw a look up at the portrait, where the Fat Lady was unabashedly ogling them. "On second thoughts, let's go a floor down."

They took the stairs together, and somehow, somewhere on the way down, her hand found its way into his. Viktor looked at her quickly and pressed her hand, but didn't comment.

They sat down next to each other, still holding hands. 

"I'm so sorry about vot happened," he started, all quiet and without preamble. "I vos unfair to you and--" He gritted his teeth. "And jealous. And I acted like you said, inexcusable. Like little boy, sulking, only thinking of myself."

His confession had taken her quite off guard. Hermione looked down at their joined hands. "It wasn't your fault, Viktor. Not all your fault, anyway. I ... I was incredibly silly to take anything Malfoy said seriously and to doubt you, but you see, I was rather upset to begin with, and didn't think clearly."

"I know. Sometimes is very hard to think straight, ven you feel so much," said Viktor with a quirk of his mouth. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand and scrutinized her. "Vot you vere upset about to begin vith? Vill you tell me?"

And for the second time in a few minutes, she went through the whole episode, red-faced and soft-voiced, stumbling for words at times. It was much harder telling Viktor than Angelina, because this directly concerned him and the most intimate part of their relationship, and where Angelina had grinned in sympathetic, immediate understanding, Viktor was solemn and methodical, intent on following every detail of what had gone through her head.

"So you believed that?" he asked quietly at last. "That I am getting impatient? For not being able to ... how do you say it ... go all the vay vith you?"

"Or even most of the way," she said, too shy right then to meet his gaze. She looked down, at the small mounds of her breasts under the woollen jumper, at her sensible schoolgirl skirt and her scuffed knee above the cotton stockings, and felt ridiculously young and inadequate, quite at odds with the exhilarating, grown-up sensations coursing through her when she and Viktor were kissing and making out. 

"I find you are beautiful," he said, surprising her into meeting his gaze after all -- dark, soft, warm in a way that left no doubt that his words were deeply felt. "Of course I vant you, of course I haff fantasies--" His cheeks darkened, but he held her gaze steadily. "But I love all ve do together. I love that ve talk, laugh, hold, kiss -- enough to drive each other a little crazy. The limits to vot ve can do, they don't feel wrong to me."

"Not even frustrating?"

"You tell me," he murmured, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I think you feel as strongly as I do ven ve kiss, touch each other -- so do you get frustrated?"

"You mean, like, wanting more?" she asked, uncertain. "I guess I do. But it's like what my body wants and my head wants aren't even on the same plane. And I can't reconcile those wants in a way that I ... feel sure about."

"Same vith me, then," he said softly. "My body vants to make love vith you. My head vants to do right thing. My heart ... hopes there vill come time ven make love vith you and doing right thing are the same thing."

Before she had time to think about it properly, Hermione was in his lap, arms thrown around his neck, hugging the breath out of him.

"Vot?" he laughed into her hair.

"I just was reminded how much I like you," she said fiercely. "Viktor, I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I was bitchy and unfair. Forgive me?"

"If you forgive me the same? Vell, I prefer not to use vord bitchy," he amended. "But acting like an arrogant -- arse, is that right vord?"

She chuckled. "That seems fairly accurate, yes."

"You said I had acted strange after Second Task -- vell, I vos jealous," he admitted, his expression pinched with uncertainty. "You vere all over Potter, hugging, kissing, and hardly saw me."

She swallowed. "I'm sorry. I did hug you and kiss you that evening though, didn't I?"

"Yes," admitted Viktor. "But is not fun, to come second vith the girl you vant to be first vith."

"You're not second," she whispered, close to his ear. "It's just, the thing with Harry, it's different. I worry so much about him and there are so many things I can't _tell_ you. Not because I don't trust you, but because Harry and Ron trust me not to say anything to anyone. It's not always that easy for me, either."

"I know, _mila_." He tightened his arms around her and brushed his lips tenderly over her cheek. "I vill try to not be arse about it."

"You get to be an arse sometimes," she said, giggling because the word sounded patently ridiculous in Viktor's pronunciation. "I know you are strong-willed and stubborn and you feel things intensely, and I ... I like that, actually. Because I'm the same way, and it means I can be passionate about things when I'm with you, without feeling like a freak."

"Please, you should alvays feel free to be passionate vith me," offered Viktor, his sideways glance sly, and she laughed softly and put her head on his shoulder.

"Yes, that way too! Things just sort of add up when I'm with you. Being a girl and being the clever know-it-all and just being ... well, me. Whereas with some other people, it's like carrying a bunch of broomsticks and trying not to lose any, trying to hold those sides of me together."

He shook his head, which she'd gotten used to from him by now, although it had been confusing at the start -- in the Bulgarian custom, this was similar to a nod, whereas a nod implied a no. "People assume too much. Is viser not think so much of vot they believe about us, or things get more complicated than is necessary." 

"I feel quite silly now," admitted Hermione with a grimace.

He chuckled and squeezed her hand. "Oh, me too. In my country, there is a saying: _Golyam oblak, maluk duzhd_. It means, 'Big cloud, little rain.'"

She repeated the words, grinning sheepishly. "I like that. In English, we'd call it 'a storm in a teacup'."

She moved her feet out of the way as Neville came hastening up the stairs, Lavender and Parvati following not far behind. Neville's gaze skittered shyly away at the sight of her on Viktor's lap. His robes brushed along her arm as he stumbled on a trick stair.

"Curfew in two minutes," he mumbled, quietly so she could ignore him if she preferred.

"I know. Thanks." She smiled up at Neville, who was already past, so that she caught Lavender's brazen stare instead. She and Parvati sniggered as they continued upstairs -- over her and Viktor, or something else entirely, who could tell? Self-conscious over their position, she climbed off his lap and sat beside him. 

She looked sidelong at Viktor, again. Girls were all different sorts, and boys too, weren't they? Shy and bold and cheeky and gentle and rude and silly and clever and snide. Girls were all different and boys were all different, but girls and boys, they weren't _that_ different. She liked this boy so much, and he was more like her than most of the girls she knew.

Viktor met her gaze with a shrewd one of his own, as if he had some idea what she was thinking. After a moment, he unfolded his long limbs to stand and reached a hand down to her. "You must be going inside now, I think."

She let him pull her to her feet and leaned against him easily. "Kiss me goodnight?" she mumbled.

Viktor hesitated. "Here? Your friends are vatching."

She heard a giggle, looked up and saw a blonde head and a dark head, and Neville's shape quickly removing itself from the banister at the same time. And -- damned if there weren't two ginger-red heads there too.

"Curfew in thirty seconds," called Fred down in his most helpful tone of voice. George grinned and mouthed 'Kiss her!' to Viktor in a theatrical whisper.

Viktor brushed the arch of her eyebrow with his lips, and someone -- Hermione thought Lavender -- giggled.

"Arrgh, girls, alvays they giggle," whispered Viktor with a put-upon scowl that made her giggle, too.

"Hmmph ... boys, always showing off," she whispered back with equally feigned exasperation.

He kissed her again, fleetingly on the lips this time. " _Lekha nosht, mila_ ," he said then -- good night, dear -- and now his gaze was warm and all for her.

"You too, Viktor." She curled her fists on his chest and rubbed her cheek gently over the wool of his dark robe. "Thanks for coming here tonight. I was all miserable over this, but now it feels ever so much better."

"Mm-hm." He wrapped his fingers around her hair at her neck and gave the makeshift ponytail a caressing, playful tug, then took a step down and let go of her easy as that. His eyes were crinkled at the corners and he gave her the subtle, yet intense smile that was all Viktor -- a private Viktor that not many got to see. Suddenly her heart swelled with pride that it was her that Viktor chose to smile at, never mind her fifteen years and her small breasts and scuffed knees. Viktor looked beyond that, and he simply liked _her_. 

Hermione shot him a big smile back over her shoulder as she dashed upstairs, feeling light as a released bird. Flanked by Fred and George, she climbed through the portrait hole and made it inside the Gryffindor common room, right on the stroke of curfew. 

"Hey. How did it go?" Angelina rose from the couch and came over to them.

"There was snogging," said George.

"It was in fact extremely touching," Fred elaborated with feeling, hand over his heart.

"Albeit no extreme touching," added George with a thoughtful air.

Angelina rolled her eyes and smirked at Hermione.

"I owe you a secret," said Hermione and laughed.

 

-end-


End file.
